Or what's really laying around our den, and why

We've been unforgivably quiet of late, we know. What can we say? Life, family, work (or lack thereof) and dodging the American Express hit-men takes time and true determination.

However, my recent lack of structured and coherent enthusiasm came to a grinding halt when I stumbled across The Gentleman’s Journal taking a stab at the top 10 items every respectable gent simply must have, dahling.

And it got me to thinking: what do the rest of us scoundrels need and actually have laying about our dens? And, more interestingly, why?

So, without further ado, and with more than a nod to TGJ for shaking us out of our funk, here's my very own, uncensored Top 10:

1. Art

There's no denying art, and appreciation and understanding thereof, are hugely dependent on what you were exposed to as a pup. Sure, you can learn and expose yourself as an adult (avoid the park, folks), however I'm a firm believer in strong, deep foundations, in part because my mother was an architect and both her and my father avid collectors of art in all its forms.

Variety, continuous challenge and avoiding the superficial traps are the only real rules to buying art. That and buying what you truly love, what moves you. Often to tears given how much you spent on the bastard.

Francis Bacon

Self-Portrait, 1973 — Francis Bacon

Beating my brothers, during the splitting up of my mother's estate, to this 1973 Self-Portrait by the ever-pained and distorted Francis Bacon was a masterstroke. It was made all the sweeter by their attempts to, quite literally, lift it off my wall more times than I can count. I've looked at this for as many years as I can remember and still can't fathom or figure it out. Which is the point of truly great art: a vision without end.

Robert Combas

Picasso fait le con avec un minotaure idiot, 1993 — Robert Combas

Another guerilla art sale by my family hair-dresser, this one is both amusing, mocking and a unique piece by what many recognise as one of the great living artists: Robert Combas. His works are usually far too loud, demanding and colourful for me, so a simple golden-penned piece entitled "Picasso fait le con avec un minotaure idiot"("Picasso fucking around with a stupid minotaur") is a life-long joke that continues to give. It's also from the 1990s, in the hopes of connecting with the millenials and other generational sub-genres.

Gaston Bertrand

Unknown, 1950 — Gaston Bertrand

I'm a sucker for geometry. Not the actual topic, mind you, but the forms that emanate from it, and the degree to which they can sustain interest despite being a bunch of shapes and lines. I'm also proud to call myself Belgian, which is why this drawing from renowned Belgian artist Gaston Bertrand is hung opposite my bed. I won't speak further to the matter, folks, apart from telling you I have no idea what the hell it's called.

2. Wall of Sound

Focal-JMLab Utopia array, sub-woofer courtesy of Dynaudio

The good news is that hi-fi is back with a vengeance, thanks to hi-rez formats, resurging interest in vinyl and tin-cans (headphones, kids). So, when folk offer up a disheveled all-in-one speaker here and a simpering whimper there, I've adopted a different approach. It's called the man-cave wall of sound, but 21st century style. This means light decorative touches, smooth lighting, comfortable furniture and as many speakers as you can squeeze in the frigging hole. Speakers are courtesy of Focal-JMLab, specifically their Utopia line; don't have time right now to detail the rest of the system. All of this is nicely boxed in thanks to incredibly helpful acoustic panels. The result? Well, I'd have to invite you over to experience it for yourself…

3. Protection

One of Jean Tanazacq's Ardennlame creations

I was in my teens when I bought this seminal piece. It's another Belgian creation, one from master bladesmith Jean Tanazacq who has chosen a boar as his logo. You wouldn't want to mess with the man or question his skills: full tang blades, compressed leather handles and brass for the hilt and pommel. It's delicious, heirloom-quality protection for those who understand why knife-fighting is learned not first, but last. Cue "Leon".

4. Robe

Marimekko robe…the one that remains unworn

While gentlemen require robes, scoundrels have a somewhat different perspective: dress completely and properly or wear your birthday suit. Perhaps that's why this robe — a lovely wedding gift — remains as intact as the day it was received. Shame, really: looks quite comfortable.

5. Words

Words and images for loners and morons

Coffee table books are akin to fake graduation diplomas and honorific degrees: intellectual and cultural padding. However, these two display both the depth of my own religious ignorance and my family's delicate, subliminal messaging about where they would like me to spend my time. And what to ride while doing so. Bless them.

6. Games

Circa 1920s Gundka 5 typewriter. Typed words, if you knew how to operate it

As a lover of words, and former editor/journalist, I can think of nothing more entertaining than trying to figure out how to use a circa 1920s German typewriter. Beats the hell out of me, and everyone else I present it to. Still, what a piece of history, eh?

7. Somewhere to park and somewhere to hide

The above is a lovely Chesterfield office chair, which has had its leather replaced with one that matched the original colour. I blame, literally, my parents backsides for that. It's beautifully built — having lasted over 125 years — incredibly comfortable and sits in the above-mentioned man cave. So I can look over the vast dominion my wife has confined me to, given my banishment from the rest of the residence.

What's below? Somewhere to hide. Cause we all, like, need to from time to time.

8. A ride

Lotus 2-Eleven. Don't ask me about it: belongs to the wife.

Given my car obsession has been festering and fermenting for almost four decades, what you see here is the culmination of all the wisdom, experience, tears, laughter and sheer thrills that passion has bestowed upon me: the Lotus 2-Eleven. It also has no roof, no doors, no interior and my wife cried when she found out she owned it thanks to a complicated offshore transaction my lawyers have forbade me to divulge further information on.

9. Decanter

Christian Dior wine decanter, circa 1970s. Empty, as usual.

Well, a good decanter is always a sign of good taste and red noses. This number is a family heirloom that sees regular action, although it was only recently discovered — thanks to some silver polish and elbow grease — that it came from the House of Christian Dior. Always in heavy rotation, empty far too soon.

10. Religion

I was given mine, you can go and find yours, thank you very much.

Inevitably, the scoundrel reaches the ultimate depth and/or greatest height, and in that quiet and lonely place, the scoundrel actually expects to find an answer to the ultimate question: why? You long for a supreme being to whisper the answer in your ringing ear and be off with a skip and a jump. No such luck, folks. For some, religion marks an end point, answers to all questions etc. For others, it's simply another door to open, walk through, nose around and leave. My kids put the menorah on the dining room table because it looked 'nice'. That's a start, isn't it?

“Any customer can have a car painted any colour that he wants so long as it is black,” Henry Ford famously joked of the Model T.

Ford’s disregard for customer choice was borne out of a need for production efficiency. He was an operations man, not a product guy, and to optimise his production line and keep the Model T priced competitively, he was cutting-costs by using a type of quick-drying paint that was only available in black.

Jobs was perhaps the ultimate product guy

Like Ford, Steve Jobs is a titan of American industry famous for limiting his customers’ choices. But Jobs was very much a product guy — perhaps the ultimate product guy. That said, when he returned to Apple in 1997, one of his first acts as interim CEO was to slash 70% of Apple’s product line (including the Newton PDA which, ironically, was just beginning to fulfil its potential). Of course Jobs was looking to reduce costs — he had to — but what was really driving him was quite different to Ford. Jobs believed in — no, he worshipped — simplicity. “That’s been one of my mantras — focus and simplicity,” he famously said. “Simple can be harder than complex; you have to work hard to get your thinking clean to make it simple.” And from his mantra came an abiding drive for excellence. As Jobs himself said, “quality is much better than quantity. One home run is much better than two doubles.”

Steve Jobs (Source: Apple)

Jobs’ obsession with simplicity and quality led to what Apple naysayers have interpreted as an arrogant approach to product design. Apple products never offered the kind of choice or configurability that its competitors routinely delivered at lower prices and, to add insult to injury, they frequently imposed a closed ecosystem on their users. “Over-priced! Dictatorial! Inflexible!,” shouted the nerds with Android-branded pitchforks. But Apple admirers know better. We know that what Apple did, what we were so grateful it did, was experiment with all the possible options during the development process then come up with a product that combined them all in the optimum way. When you bought an Apple product, you rarely had much choice (storage was often the only decision you had to make) but that never mattered: you knew you were buying the best. You knew that the confusing decisions had been made for you by people frankly much more qualified to do so and that the result was as good as it could get. You were buying the state-of-the-art.

Choice, you see, is often overrated — whether you’re looking for a cheap car or the best computer, it’s often wiser to leave it to the experts.

What does any of this have to do with the iPhone SE? Bear with me.

The best of Apple

I’ve been waiting for something like the iPhone SE ever since Apple released its first disappointing iPhone: the 6.

iPhone 6S (Source: Apple)

I upgrade my phone every year and, after the 5S, I had nowhere to go but the 6. I didn’t like the ‘middle of the road’ size so sent it back and went properly big (hey, if you’re gonna be a bear, be a grizzly!) with the 6 Plus. The year after that, all my suits destroyed by the Plus’ obscene girth, sense prevailed and I opted for the 6S. And throughout, of course, I appreciated the new phones’ technical improvements. But their overall size was — and is — ungainly. Yes, it’s nice having a larger screen, but is it worth sacrificing the tactile experience? On a device like this, one that you spend most of the day touching and using, how it feels in your hand, how it works without you even thinking about it, are crucial. So, I settled on the 6S begrudgingly — not because of its form factor but despite it. Having a great camera and a speedy processor was important enough to me to ‘put up’ with the size of the thing.

When the SE was released in April 2016 then, I was delighted.

iPhone 5S (Source: Apple)

The iPhone SE has the guts of the 6S squeezed into the case of a 5S. You get all the performance of the current flagship in a smaller form factor, a form factor that in my view is the pinnacle of iPhone design. And that’s no coincidence. As the direct descendant of the iPhone 4, the SE is the last iPhone that still has Jobs’ fingerprints all over it.

Jobs understood that form follows function, that a product shouldn’t just look beautiful but should work beautifully too. And you experience that in every aspect of the SE.

iPhone 4 (Source: Apple)

The SE’s overall size and its 4 inch screen in particular are simply perfect. There’s nothing you can’t do one-handed — which is exactly how a ‘phone should be. And, while small by today’s standards, the 4 inch screen is actually an upsized version of the 3.5 inch screen from the 4 and 4S. It’s very rare that you actually miss having a larger screen.

I’m also utterly in love with the industrial design of the thing. When Jobs unveiled the 4 he talked about it looking like a Leica camera. Hold the SE and you instantly knew what he meant: polished, brushed and chamfered metal married to shiny glass — this thing looks incredibly sophisticated yet utterly functional. There’s nothing showy about it but it exudes the kind of sophistication that the 6S’s cheaper-feeling, bar of soap-like form factor can’t hope to match.

iPhone SE (Source: Apple)

The SE is thicker and denser than the 6S too. This is a *good* thing. It feels substantial and important in your hand. It’s easy to hold and comfortable to operate. Using it as a camera is completely natural.

The iPhone SE is the perfect embodiment of Steve Jobs’ approach

And, speaking of cameras, the Leica-like details abound and they delight. The lovely, substantial round volume buttons are leagues ahead of the 6’s cheap, rattle-prone ones. The Power button is where it belongs: on the top of the device, not on the side (exactly where your finger wants to rest when pressing the volume button) as it is on the 6. Oh, and you don’t have to suffer the camera bump: the SE’s camera model is smoothly integrated in the case. And, even now after all these years, I still love the look of that metal bezel running around the edge of the device. This is truly a piece of classic design. I doubt very much that anyone will say the same of the 6S in a few years’ time.

In short, the iPhone SE is the perfect embodiment of Steve Jobs’ approach: considered in every way and sporting the highest quality available. It’s the very best of Apple.

Except it’s not. Although I told myself I could do without them, gnawing away at me is the knowledge that my SE is denying me some of Apple’s latest innovations. It lacks 3D Touch, its front facing camera is a joke compared to the 6S’, its Touch ID is slower, and its display lacks the depth, clarity and ‘pop’ — if not the resolution — of its bigger brothers. Most importantly to me though, I’m bothered on a daily basis by the fact that my photos and videos could be better. Yes, the SE has the camera module from the 6S but the 6S Plus also has optical image stabilization — making your low-light photos sharper and dramatically improving hand-held video footage.

Which brings us to why the SE also represents the worst of Apple.

The worst of Apple

Cook runs Apple very differently to Jobs. In some respects (its increased openness, its sense of corporate responsibility, its advocacy on issues like data privacy) that’s an excellent thing. From the point of view of the products it offers, it’s a disaster which I think will eventually harm the company.

Apple no longer offers one iPhone. It now offers five: the SE, the 6, the 6 Plus, the 6S, and the 6S Plus. Now, if these were just three sizes of the same iPhone, I wouldn’t be so incensed. What bothers me is that these are all subtle variations on the iPhone theme, each with their own very distinct list of pros and cons.

The 2016 iPhone range (Source: Apple)

Cook doubtless thinks he’s one-upped the likes of Ford; he’s a masterful operations specialist who has managed to tame the unruly supply chain and production process with such skill that he can afford to offer Apple’s products in a plethora of different configurations. I’m sure he thinks he’s offering his customers choice. He’s not. He’s offering them confusion.

He thinks he’s offering his customers choice but he’s offering them confusion

When Jobs was running the show, if you wanted the best phone in the world, it was simple: you bought an iPhone. The only choice you had to make was how much storage you wanted.

Today, if you want the best iPhone, you’re screwed. There is no longer any such thing.

Want the best camera? iPhone 6S Plus

Want the best size? iPhone SE

Want the best value? iPhone 6

If I want the best camera, I have to settle for an ungainly phone. If I want a tactile phone that feels great in my hand, I have to do without 3D Touch. Under the guise of choice, Cook is actually serving up something which used to be the very antithesis of Apple: compromise. He doesn’t seem to know what people really want or care about so he’s giving them everything.

Simplicity and focus demand conviction

I don’t want to sound like a fanatic. I still have a healthy respect for Apple and there’s no doubt its products maintain the ability to surprise and delight. But I sorely miss the confidence, clarity and — yes — chutzpah with which Jobs use to run it. Cook has many attributes that Jobs lacked but when it comes to the company’s products, he comes up short of something vital: conviction.

Steampunk: Infernal Devices

Five years ago, whilst on holiday in Japan, I took a detour. It started with a trip to Nakano Broadway — one of Tokyo’s main otaku destinations — a multi-level mall devoted to selling everything from manga to aidoru-related collectables, via video games and BluRay discs. It’s also home to Jack Road, which, it turns out, is actually a pretty good place to look for a vintage watch — even if the prices can tend to the steeper end of the scale.

From here, I joined Hodinkee’s Ben Clymer in search of a small shop called Studio Tom’s a few miles away in Shimokitazawa. We had a local guide / fixer, but even with directions from ever-courteous locals and a Japanese policemen, Tokyo’s notorious planning system had us stumped. Then, after about three hours of relatively aimless wandering, we discovered the shop, tucked away in a back street a few yards from the railway tracks.

Studio Tom’s is one of the few places that sells watches by legendary Japanese watchmaker Haruo Suekichi. And one of the few places that displays his purchased watches. Customers often leave their watches in the shop during the week, only wearing them at the weekend as part of their cosplay activities. Unfortunately, it was a Friday and the store had been largely cleared of its treasures. But what was left hinted at another world — a lost land of leather and metal. One watch appeared to be part-raygun-part-timekeeper, while another was studded with a temperature and pressure gauge.

Haruo Suekichi watch for sale at Studio Tom’s (C) Noodlefish

You may have seen Suekichi’s watches at the Museum of the History of Science a few years ago; he predominantly uses basic time-only quartz movements, with hand-painted, stamped or embossed dials and distressed cases. He’s made many thousands over the past decade and although they sell for many hundreds of pounds, there always seems to be a waiting list. His watches are pure aesthetic: leather gauntlets, brass springs or hinges that serve no real purpose, or perhaps a pair of fluttering wings that extend with the flick of the wrist (the wings beat on their own accord, flapping away powered by a hidden battery).

Haruo Suekichi for sale at Studio Tom’s (C) Studio Tom’s 2015

This was steampunk, a concept that has probably been around since Verne and Wells. In many ways it’s just Victorian speculative fiction. In others, it’s a lot more. I first stumbled across the genre when I picked up a copy of William Gibson and Bruce Sterling’s TheDifference Engine in the nineties. The Difference Engine is often credited with setting out many of the norms of the genre, although the name steampunk was actually a joke by another writer, KW Jeter — a reference to the cyberpunk science fiction of the mid-80s.

“Personally, I think Victorian fantasies are going to be the next big thing, as long as we can come up with a fitting collective term … Something based on the appropriate technology of the era; like ‘steam-punks’, perhaps.”

KW Jeter, 1987

But what is “steampunk”? Increasingly the word has come to refer to a fashion and lifestyle movement that incorporates technology and aesthetic designs inspired by 19th-century industrial steam-powered machinery. As the short-lived Steampunk Magazine once said, “steam technology is the difference between the nerd and the mad scientist; steampunk machines are real, breathing, coughing, struggling and rumbling parts of the world…”

As an aesthetic (and indeed a lifestyle) the key drivers / pre-cursors include HG Wells’ The Time Machine and Jules Verne’s, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. While these novels (and the pictures by Alphonse de Neuville and Édouard Riou) are often credited with influencing many steampunk designs, including watches, it is the Disney version (from 1954) that seems to have had the greatest impact on steampunk more widely. It was the Production Designer, Harper Goff, who wanted the iron-riveted look of Nemo’s submarine — the Nautilus — and there are a number of watchmakers and watch designers who seem to have been inspired by this look.

Harper Goff’s Nautilus design for 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea

But how does one describe steampunk watches? It’s difficult to condense, but there’s a helpful equation that I’ve been able to adapt from American author Jeff Vandermeer:

For example, if you were to take a watch designed by Jeff Burns and made by Vianney Halter, divide through by a rivets and add in a good dose of Clyde Lucas’ 1960 version of The Time Machine, you might get the Trio.

Vianney Halter’s Trio (C) Noodlefish

Or Thomas Prescher x Spiral Retrograde Hours / portholes + 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea might produce the Nemo Sub 1. It’s interesting to compare / contrast the approach that Thomas Prescher takes to that of, for example, the tinker / maker approach of Haruo Suekichi. Prescher researched his watch mercilessly, seeking inspiration in art, literature, cinema, architecture and archaeology — everywhere were steampunk ideas were seen. All of these and more have been fed into his watches. The Nemo Sub is therefore a deliberately steampunk item — he sought out inspiration and designed parts to fit the aesthetic. For example, the crown which will eventually sit atop the cylindrical main body of the watch will be shaped like a valve, unscrewing to allow the owner to set the time. In many ways, Thomas embodies steampunk, asking why not, rather than why. As Thomas told me: “Craft becomes art when it loses its sense.”

The oscillating weight for Thomas Prescher’s NEMO Sub

Which brings me to Max Busser. The Legacy Machines are watches that he says he would like to have made had he been living in the 19th century (presumably surrounded by all his friends). A gonzo-historic watch, perhaps? The Legacy Machines draw on the designs of Breguet and Antide Janvier — amending the geography of the movement from the rear to the front — and mirroring the resonance or synchronised clocks produced by those great makers. In the latest of these pieces, the LM101, the frosting so often used in English watches, and so famously by Breguet himself, has been incorporated into the dial and movement.

Busser has imagined — or perhaps reimagined — the modern watch from the perspective of the late 19th century. In doing so, and with the help of some of the most interesting watchmakers of the current century, he gives us a reinterpretation of the past. In many ways, these Legacy Machines are (I would argue) the watches most similar to those original steampunk novels. They are watches that are not just influenced by Art Deco, the Eiffel Tower or HG Wells’ Time Machine, but rather a new view of the future — a different timeline — an alternate history.

MB&F Legacy Machine

In The Difference Engine, Gibson and Sterling imagine a world in which Babbage completed his automatic calculator in 1825; computers therefore arrive earlier, and technology that would not exist for 150 years is suddenly available. What would such a world look like if we were to apply it to watches and clocks? It seems highly likely that if Babbage had succeeded, the pocket watch would have been largely unaffected — certainly in the short term. Computing power may have led to the development of new complications — although the majority of these had already been created for clocks. Watchmaking hasn’t required complex computing power until recently — but that has been to design new watches rather than to improve them.

In many way, Max shares a great deal in common with Vianney Halter. Vianney is, perhaps, the KW Jeter of steampunk watchmaking — the ur-watchmaker. He (along with designer Jeff Barnes) defined the language that others would use — both visually and linguistically. The Halter-Barnes Time Machine Antiqua in 1998, four years before the word “steampunk” was even used on the internet (it appeared on the Boing Boing ‘blog in 2002). It wasn’t even described as “steampunk” — rather Vianney said that it came from another future, a parallel world imagined by those who lived in the 19th century. He calls his designs futur anterieur — past future — and and it brings to mind a kind of retro-futurism in reverse**.

Vianney Halter’s Antiqua

The Antiqua’s movement shares the base layout and some gearing with the Lemania calibre 8810. It’s an automatic perpetual calendar with 43 jewels and a so-called mysterious mass winding rotor. This latter item is quite interesting, being built of three separate parts — the central riveted hub, a large sapphire disk and the outer riveted “mass.” Like Thomas Prescher, Vianney likes a bit of theatre.

Our preoccupation with steampunk is, perhaps, less of a reaction to the literary genre, nor even the actions of a the cosplayers, but rather a marriage of convenience. Watchmaking — or rather mechanical watch and clockmaking — is an inherently and increasingly anachronistic endeavour. As Bruce Sterling once said, steampunk is “a counterculture arts and crafts movement in a 21st century guise”.

What could be more countercultural than watchmaking?

the #watchnerd

** It’s interesting to note that, in the original Jeff Barnes designs, the Antiqua was called the Futura

It’s that time again. The release of another Bond film. Of course, for the last two decades, this has also coincided with the release of a new Omega watch as well. However, until now, the watch world appears to have been slightly underwhelmed by the first watch ever worn by Bond: James’ first watch — and therefore the Bond watch — was a Mido Multifort.

The first Bond watch: Mido Multifort Superautomatic, c1934

James Bond was born c1920 (November 11 in either 1920 or ’21, depending on your source), and famously lost his parents in a mountain climbing accident in the Aiguilles Rouges, near Chamonix. While it took some years before his antics reached the public eye (the books largely chronicle the period between May 1951 and February 1964), his earlier life is just as interesting, and is documented in a series of novels by Charlie Higson.

Most interestingly from a #watchnerd point of view, Higson has gone into a great deal of detail in describing the young Bond, including his timepiece. According to Higson, the first watch Bond wore was not a Rolex, nor indeed an Omega, but rather a Mido Multifort — “the first automatic, anti-magnetic, water-proof (up to 100 feet; perfectly sufficient back in those days), and shock resistant watch of its time**”.

Charlie Higson explained to the Young Bond Dossier, “I think for the real Bond purists I should have given him a Rolex because that’s his iconic watch. But I sort of love the idea of the Multifort. It just looked like a really interesting watch. And I think, for the time, it is the right watch for him to have. And it’s a nice little nod to CBn.” hence James is given, and wears a Mido in By Royal Command.

While I have attempted to find a photo of this watch being worn by James in 1934, my search has not been fruitful. It appears that James’ Aunt tried to keep him out of the limelight and away from cameras. It was only in his latter years that James reluctantly allowed his missions to be filmed, and to be seen wearing a Rolex, Breitling, Seiko, Omega or (indeed) Pulsar.

What I have been able to find are a few adverts (via ATG Vintage Watches) that illustrate a time only and chronograph version of the Multifort. One of these — an advert for a chronograph — even suggests that these watches are perfect for aviators, doctors, engineers, chemists, sportsmen, physicists and explorers. Strangely, it doesn’t mention spies.

In a stroke of luck that I can only describe as bizarre, I think I’ve also discovered the second Bond watch.

While trying to find an appropriate birthday present for a dear friend (and talented writer) @Dublonothing, I came across a copy of Mary Wickham Bond’s 1966 book, How 007 Got His Name. In it, there’s a photo of James wearing a watch that is almost certainly *not* a Rolex.

How 007 Got His Name, by Mary Wickham Bond (1966)

Although there have been Rolexes with horned lugs, it’s certainly not the Explorer that so many assume Fleming wrote into the 007 novels. Rather, this pretty, small, relatively discrete dress watch is more in keeping with the *real* James Bond, the noted ornithologist. It reminds me of the early Smiths 12–15 watches, and that would certainly fit the timeframe (Fleming stole Bond’s name at some point before 1953). Could the second Bond watch be a Smiths?

I’ve never seen either of these watches mentioned elsewhere, even though they are part of the Bond canon. Most odd.

Disclaimer: I received a Press Pass for SalonQP 2015, and have written for QP Magazine, most recently in Issue 75.

SalonQP was launched in 2009. Since moving to the Saatchi Gallery from Number One Marylebone, the annual event has continued to gather momentum and reputation, helped, no doubt, by its new owners, the Telegraph Media Group. This year, over 90 watch and watch-related brands were represented, ranging from well-established manufacture to independents, including some names that had not been seen in London for some time.

Ludovic Ballouard

It wasn’t the first time I’d seen Ludovic’s Upside Down watch. Unfortuneately, the last time had been in the dingy back room of a Geneva casino in snowy January. Ludovic had been exhibiting as part of SIWP, the Swiss Pavilion of Watchmaking**, alongside Emmanuel Bouchet, Vianney Halter, Akrivia and Kari Voutilainen, but it had been difficult to photograph the watches, as light was at a premium. In the brightly lit galleries of SalonQP, however, this was far less of a problem. It also allowed me to hold a brief, if somewhat stilted, conversation with Ludovic, who made good use of Google Translate while I fumbled to recall my Additional French vocabulary***.

Ludovic Ballouard wearing a #watchnerd pin at SalonQP 2015

Jumping hours are still relatively rare in modern watches, although they have an illustrious heritage, with Breguet himself producing a number of pocket watches and clocks with this complication^. While most complications will either advance one or more hour hands, or perhaps drive a digital disc or two, Ludovic’s take is somewhat contrary. At first glance, there’s something slightly unsettling about the watch: the numerals are all upside down.

Ludovic Ballouard’s Upside Down watch

If, as above, you happen to catch the watch at eleven o’clock, then the illusion is even stranger. However, a closer look reveals that, below one numeral is a black dot, and that this number is the right way round, indicating the current hour. As the minute hand progresses around the dial, energy is stored in the jumper mechanism and is released, nearly instantaneously at the change of the hour. Unlike “standard” jumping hour complications, Ludovic has had to design the mechanism to act on two numerals at once: one to turn the old hour upside down, and a second to right the new hour. The Upside Down watch’s B01 movement is, in fact, loosely based on a Peseux 7001, although you’ll be forgiven for not noticing.

Ludovic Ballouard’s B01 movement

As can be seen in the photo above, there are twelve “Maltese crosses” distributed evenly around the edge of the movement, each corresponding to a number on the dial. Maltese, or Geneva, crosses are often seen in the stop work of mechanical watches, but can also be used to translate continuous rotary movement into an intermittent movement, i.e. advance the hours as the central nautilus-shaped cam completes its hourly rotation. Two springs can also be seen — one to store the power for the jump, and the second to maintain tension. All this is combined with a little dial-side trickery, as the small dots beside each numeral are hidden from view beneath the bezel until required. I didn’t manage to get a good video of the hour change in action, but WatchesTV has a rather nice interview with Ludovic (in French, but with subtitles) which also includes a demonstration of the watch. Ludovic also brought along his Half Time watch, photos of which can be seen here and here.

Another brand that had not been seen in London for some time was Urban Jürgensen & Sønner, who picked up the Men’s Watch Prize at GPHG in 2014 with their Centre Second model (seen below). Some of you may also remember that the ownership ofUrban Jürgensen & Sønner returned to Danish hands during the same year, when a group of investors took over the company and Søren Petersen was appointed President and CEO.

This is one of the reasons that, for me, SalonQP is such an unusual and unique occasion: there is no selling (unlike Basel), and there is little brand politics (unlike SIHH), but instead, a collection of unusual and interesting designers and manufactures from a wide cross-section of the market.

Urban Jürgensen & Sønner

Urban Jürgensen ref 1142 CS RG

While the Urban Jürgensen & Sønner brand goes back to 1773, recent history has focused on the development of a unique escapement, under the direction of Peter Baumberger and Derek Pratt. The story of this movement is fascinating and deserves a much more in-depth post. Suffice it to say, the production of a serial wrist watch containing a pivoted detent escapement is remarkable. Indeed, until recently, many thought it impossible. Pivoted detent escapements were first developed by John Arnold in the eighteenth century, and, indeed, Daniels makes mention of the potential accuracy of this form of chronometer escapement in Watchmaking^^.

Urban Jürgensen Ref 1142C Movement

The P8 movement is, therefore, rather unusual: not only does it make use of a pivoted detent; but it also runs at a rather unique three beats per second. The detent was designed for use in a marine chronometer, not for a pocket watch, or even smaller wrist watch, and has therefore had to undergo a number of modifications. Unfortunately, I spent most of my allotted time with UJ&S taking photographs, badly, rather than asking about the escapement. When faced with the Reference 1142C and a Reference 10 for the first time, I fell in to the trap of attempting to capture their likeness, rather than understand their mechanisms. One can (usually) find photos to use to illustrate ‘blog posts; however, it’s far, far harder to replace a lack of content.

The dial and hands are equally interesting, and perfectly made. The guilloché brings to mind Breguet and Daniels, Smith and Voutilainen (the latter worked with Peter Baumberger for some time and remembers him with great fondness), while the hands reflect light in the way that few others are able. I’m told that this is due to the unique method of production: the hour hand is composed of four individual parts that are either soldered or pressed together to form the whole.

Urban Jürgensen Ref 3

While at first glance, the rounded shanks and “moon” tips may be reminiscent of Breguet, they are far more complex. The moon is created in two parts, by hand, with the centre “eye” piece held in place within its circular sibling by friction. This eye is bevelled in an asymmetric manner that is not immediately obvious. However, closer investigation reveals that the insert is thinner towards the top of the eye, and has a shallower bevel at the bottom. Anecdotally, I’ve heard that the signature Urban Jürgensen hands were designed by Peter Baumberger, who made the first set himself, having tired of trying to explain his idea to his watchmakers.

Urban Jurgensen Ref 10

Not content with their chronometer movement, Urban Jürgensen also offers a perpetual, in the form of the Ref 3 and the Ref 10. Both of these watches have the most beautiful moon discs, that my photography almost completely fails to capture. And the lugs. The size, shape and angle of the lugs differs from Reference to Reference. Again, it may not be immediately obvious, but these lugs have been carefully designed both for their aesthetics and the comfort of the wearer, painstakingly pressed from solid metal and then soldered invisibly to their cases.

Montblanc

The Montblanc Metamorphosis II has eluded me for some time. The first prototype was shown at SIHH 2010, if I remember correctly, and I had been hoping to see it at both SalonQP 2010 and 2011. However, for whatever reason, an operational version failed to make it to London. Five years ago, the Montblanc brand had been better known for its pens than its watches, although by mid-2012, the Villeret-led charm offensive had been launched. This resurgence has been continued by Jérôme Lambert throughout his reign as CEO, culminating in some impressive recent releases.

Montblanc Metamorphosis II

The Montblanc M67.40 movement on the Metamorphosis II is a deceptively simple hand-wound chronograph, beating at a leisurely 2.5Hz (18,000 vph). It is, of course, a Minerva Villeret creation, as can be seen from the instantly recognisable serpent’s tail. But this watch is not about the movement, it’s about what lies atop, betwixt it and the dial.

Montblanc Metamorphosis II Minerva Villeret movement

The Metamorphosis II follows the same basic principles as the original model: a watch with two faces that the wearer can switch between at will. Like its progenitor, the watch is a regulator, with a central minute hand, hours at twelve and date at six. The second, initially hidden, dial also hides a second complication — a chronograph with a 30-minute register.

Of course, my initial focus was on this remarkable mechanical hemimetabolic process. By simply pushing the repeater-like slide, the two sets of elytron-esque leaves at twelve and six, open up and fold away under the remains of the guilloché dial. While it only takes about five seconds to reveal the chronograph functions, it’s hard not to (metaphorically) hold one’s breath while the transformation occurs. It’s a delicate moment, reminiscent of seeing an 18th century automaton or similar marvel; there’s a slight whirring that’s not dissimilar to the noise made by large Tanzanian scarab beetles. But that’s another story. With another push of slide, the dial reverts to its original state, hiding the modern-looking sub-dial under a tile of roman numerals.

Montblanc Metamorphosis II sub-dial detail

This is a remarkable watch and it was certainly one of the highlights of SalonQP for me. Not being part of the global press corps, I, like many other #watchnerds, need SalonQP in order to see watches like this or the Ref 10. SalonQP brings brands to London that are otherwise unseeable. Long may it continue.

the #watchnerd

** SIWP will be back this month (January 2016), with 20 exhibitors, including Vincent Calabrese, Antoine Preziouso and the slightly bonkers WatchE. If you’re in town for SIHH, do pop in.

*** Actually, my comprehension skills have improved slightly over the past twelve months, as I’ve been trying to read some Berthoud, Saunier, et al, in the original French.

^ Daniels, in The Art of Breguet, makes a couple of interesting observations about jumping hour hands: 1) the complication is not particularly useful, and 2) it can, in fact, cause the wearer to completely misjudge the time, especially when used to reading a “normal” time display.

In 2014 Salon QP saw over 7,000 visitors over three days, attracted to the fair for a variety of reasons. This year that figure will grow along with the type and number of attractions — Many people will go to see the new educational exhibitions and workshops designed to improve their knowledge of horology, while others will be there to see new models from well known brands and even the launch of whole new brands.

There will of course be a large number of watch nerds, many of whom we count among our friends, who will be there to discover who has the best tourbillon or the most incredible developments in main spring technology… that’s not why we’re there though.

We visited Salon QP for the preview evening on Thursday as guests of our friends at Bremont Chronometers (thank you Giles & Sophie) and in keeping with the way in which we usually conduct ourselves, we very much enjoyed it from the perspective of the Voluptuary. There will be a thousand pieces published in a thousand places from many other perspectives but we were there for the beauty and the experience, because that’s the way in which we enjoy our watches.

Here are a few of the high points for us along with some tips on how to gain maximum enjoyment from the preview evening:

The Invitation — The anticipation began to build early for us as the invitations arrived in the post, beautifully embossed on preposterously heavy card they set the scene for a very special experience. You know this is going to be good and it’s weeks away yet.

The Location — The Saatchi Gallery is a beautiful location during the day but at night it’s really spectacular. So when you arrive at QP it feels like you’re on the set of a James Bond movie at a grand ball…. it’s pretty special and gives you a great feeling before you even walk in the door.

The Company — This is not an event to attend alone. I went with my big brother and some great watch buddies old and new and met some interesting people along the way, all of which adds to the experience (you might recognise one of the guys in the photo’s) Remember, this is absolutely not just about parachrome mainsprings, it’s about enjoying yourself.

The Welcome — This is where things start to get good. Big security guards let you know that there are some pretty spectacular watches inside, pretty girls bring you free champagne, beer and tasty canapés and very soon you begin to feel like a pretty special guest.

The Crowd — Last year 7000 visitors came to Chelsea for QP and this Thursday it felt like they were all there at the same time for preview evening because the buzz began before we even walked into the first of the thirteen busy rooms. If you go to an event like this and there’s no-one there, it’s not going to make you feel good. On the other hand, when you turn up and everyone’s already having a great time then you can’t help but have one too.

The Watches — You knew they were going to be here and oh my they are here in spades. There are some seriously big brands here like Audemars Piguet, Vacheron Constantin, Bremont, Tudor, Zenith, JLC….It’s a big list and some of the watches are mind blowing.

There are also some newer brands here that you won’t see in many other places like Akrivia and Pequignet and that experience is definitely worth a little investment of your time.

The Auction Houses — The Salon always attracts the presence of the best watch auction houses and this year we were lucky to see Watches of Knightsbridge, Bonhams and Fellows all of whom were pleased to show us some of the lots from their impending auctions. This is where vintage fans get their fix at Salon QP and where you’re almost guaranteed to see examples of the most iconic watch models in the world. I was lucky enough to see a Paul Newman Daytona, a Comex Submariner, the rarest of Tudor Princes and an astonishing late 1950’s bakelite bezelled GMT Master, some of which you can see above.

These three stands are the places where we genuinely can see individual watches the like of which most of us will never see again.

So as you know we don’t sell niche watch brands, we don’t sell new watches and we don’t care about the latest advances in movements or timekeeping to a millionth of a second. So why on earth would we spend time and money visiting a show which is ostensibly about just that?

Because it’s an EXPERIENCE — and a great one at that.

You should go.

SalonQP 2015 was originally published in The Prodigal Guide on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Here’s a question that we are asked almost daily in our interactions with potential customers, and an excellent question it is too — if you definitely want papers with your pre-owned watch then nothing else will do… But do you?

The crucial thing about watch papers is to decide why they are important to you because while they’re often a nice thing to have, they’re certainly not essential.

You will always pay considerably more for a watch with papers than one without and for all the time that you own the watch they will sit in a drawer giving you pleasure from the knowledge that they are there. I’ve owned dozens of Full Set watches over the years and I can honestly say that I’ve never taken any of the papers out of the safe just to look at them…. Of course some people like papers because it makes the package ‘complete’ and they enjoy that element of ownership, which is absolutely reasonable.

When it comes to your investment, you’ll find that when you sell the watch in the future it will be worth more than one without papers, but then it cost you more in the first place so there’s an element of swings and roundabouts here.

If you are interested in papers and accessories as a form of authenticity for a watch that you’re considering then these days I’m afraid that they don’t offer that certainty. There are plenty of fake watches out there with fake papers — and also several with real papers too because the watch can be faked to match them.

Our advice would be that the best way to get peace of mind over the authenticity of your watch is to trust the person that you buy from — If you’re buying a watch and you’re really anxious about whether you may be buying a pup then walk away — this is all about you and you should feel comfortable at every stage of the process…

Six Small Words

The Watchmaker’s Apprentice is a documentary about Roger W Smith and Dr George Daniels, and the relationship between these two extraordinary men. Produced by DAM Productions, a version of the film premiered some time ago at SalonQP, and was released as a limited edition DVD last year. It finally goes on general release this month (released in the UK through Bulldog, on August 10th). In the film, the late Dr George Daniels uses six small words to describe watches. These words (which inspired a series of posts on the #watchnerd) may not be the first that spring to mind when one considers modern horology, but, perhaps, that’s the point.

Historic (/hiˈstôrik/) Adj. 1. Famous or important in history, or potentially so. 2. Of or concerning history; of the past.

However, there is a group of watches that, for me at least, is truly historic. Their multi-branded iconic dials all show exactly the same thing and were the inspiration for the Memorial pictured above. At least two are now on display at the Peace Memorial Museum in Hiroshima.

Watch from the Peace Memorial Museum, Hiroshima

A pocket watch, belonging to Mr Kengo Nikawa, stopped at 08:15 on the morning of August 6, seventy years ago. Mr Nikawa was over a mile from the hypocentre of the blast; he died two weeks later. A similarly-stopped wristwatch (above) tells the same story.

These watches have no intrinsic value; their style, brand, movement, complications and finissage are irrelevant.

These pieces recorded history.

Permanently.

Intellectual (/ˌintlˈekCHo͞oəl/)Adj. Of or relating to the intellect: “intellectual stimulation”; an aspect of something where learning, erudition, and informed and critical thinking are the focus

A few years ago I was talking recently to a watchmaker about timing, or rather about the different terminal ends applied to balance springs. The question had arisen as a result of a brief discussion of the multiple patents belonging to the Heritage Watch Manufactory. He immediately recited an equation that described the spring, using its length, height, thickness, mass. I nodded. Smiled. And realised that the maths was almost completely beyond me (although the basic principles remained within my grasp. Probably). Given watches are such a passion, it seemed odd that I’d not really delved into the study of watchmaking itself — true horology. I must admit to feeling more than a little inadequate.

Upon reflection, I realised that the mathematics that underpins the effectiveness of balance springs as a timing device that had begun with discoveries by Hooke, Hautefeuille and Huyghens in the 17th century was still in use. Although technical advances abound, especially in the realms of materials science, the basics have probably remained largely unchanged. I had been thinking for a while that I should probably spend more time understanding the manufacture and mechanics of watches and less time writing about their looks and therefore asked for a list of reading material. The recommendations included de Carle’s Practical Watch Repairing, Daniels’ Watchmaking and Suanier’s Treatise on Modern Horology. The latter, first published in France in 1861, set out to document everything that was known at the time about clock and watchmaking. Saunier’s aim was “to make the volume useful to the greatest possible number of those who live by our delicate and difficult industry”.

In many respects, Saunier’s Treatise is as relevant today as it was when first translated into English in 1877. The industry remains “delicate and difficult” and there are certainly many to whom the intellectual aspect of horology is less than important. Indeed, far more words are written each month on watch forums and ‘blogs than are dedicated to the study of watchmaking. However, without such study, are we truly able to appreciate the watches about which we so obviously care? The answer, of course, is yes; one does not need to understand drag coefficient to board a ‘plane. But as I spend more time exploring the horological, the more interesting watches become.

Since then, my library of watchmaking-related books and pamphlets has grown; many of these stem from the 19th or early 20th century, although there are some more recent additions. Just as relevant now as it was then, is, perhaps, Pascal’s sentiment, quoted by Saunier in his Preface: “We should see no farther than those who have gone before us, did not their knowledge serve as a stepping stone to our own.”

Technical (/ˈteknikəl/) Adj. of or relating to a particular subject, art, or craft, or its techniques.

While browsing a well-known UK watch forum, I read a post describing a member’s first attempt at regulating a recently-purchased piece. The poster revealed his surprise at seeing the watch’s movement for the first time, and in particular, at how small it was. Of course, the majority of watch-wearers will never remove the case back from their watch, nor attempt a spot of regulation, so the opportunity to see the inner workings of a mechanical watch are generally limited, unless your watch has a display back.

Heritage Watch Manufactory

Display backs allow the watch to be viewed through a sapphire crystal “window”. One is usually able to see the balance wheel — “the beating heart” of the mechanical watch, as well as bridges, the rotor (if automatic) and the barrel(s). One imagines that, of the small minority of watch-owners with a display back, even fewer will be aware of the history of the balance wheel, nor the increasing technical advances being made by, for example, the Heritage Watch Manufactury, Ulysse Nardin or Greubel-Forsey.

The balance wheel — or rather the wheel and balance spring — was a 17th century solution to a rather tricky problem: how to fit a pendulum into a portable time piece. The balance has two key parts: a wheel-like structure that sits within the watch mechanism and a small, coiled spring that causes the wheel to oscillate as it receives power from the barrel. The oscillations drive a series of wheels, which are advanced as the balance swings from position to position. Controlling these oscillations, and negating the effects of temperature and gravity, is the key to highly accurate timekeeping.

FP Journe Resonance

Technical advances in watchmaking are far more common than one might imagine; it’s the use of these discoveries in mass-produced models which appears to be rare. Take the co-axial escapement, for example: it took George Daniels many years to persuade a major manufacturer to use his invention. Now, it’s the jewel in Omega’s horological crown. Why did it take so long for a more efficient, better piece to make it to the mainstream? Who knows: inertia, perhaps.

When it comes to the balance, there are two examples that strike me as particularly interesting. HWM approached the problem of the balance in a very methodical manner, looking not only at the balance wheel itself, but also the input device (i.e. controlling the power produced by twin barrels) and the output device (the escapement). Larger wheels are inherently more stable, and therefore should be better timekeepers. The HWM balance is 16mm across, beats relatively slowly (2.5Hz) and utilises a form of compensation that was first proposed in the second half of the 18th Century. This patented VIVAX (or “living”) balance has two “arms” on the outer rim of the wheel, which move — opening and closing as the assembly oscillates — and (in effect) self-regulate.

Greubel-Forsey, on the other hand, have focused more on the immediate effects of gravity / the positioning of the watch. Having spent much of the past decade developing increasingly complex tourbillon-based cages to house their balances, their most recent invention, which builds on previous designs, has two balances, with a spherical differential that averages out their impulses. These two balances are inclined at 35°, allowing for each balance to also be slightly larger than if laid flat, and also to counteract the position of the watch.

A Greubel-Forsey GMT-1

That technical, scientific improvements are still being made to mechanical watches is part of the pleasure I gain from this hobby. That such improvements are also artistic, beautiful and often full of whimsy, just adds to the enchantment.

Aesthetic /esˈTHetik/: Concerned with beauty or the appreciation of beauty.

There was, if I remember correctly, a slightly disparaging statement that Dr George Daniels made about 19th and 20th Century Swiss movements in his book Watchmaking. His premise was that English “gentlemen” — the wearers of fine timepieces at that time — appreciated timekeeping over beauty. English movements were designed to keep good time and therefore there was, perhaps, no need to cover up their (technical) shortcomings with superfluous finissage.

However, finissage has now become synonymous with luxury or certainly with haute horology; the quality of the finish on a watch is almost directly proportional to the price (although this often seems to be on a log scale). A friend and watchmaker told me that, while discussing finishing on a recent visit to Switzerland, he heard of parts being beveled and polished by hand; they could only be considered suitable for inclusion in the watch if they were no visible defects under a 20x loupe. In effect, the watchmaker was asking for flawless work and one assumes that the price will be inline with the cost of flawless diamonds, i.e. astronomical.

But it’s not just the finishing of the mechanical elements of a watch that should be considered. There are aspects of all parts of a watch that can be appreciated — after all, few owners ever get to see the inner workings of their watches for more than a fleeting look. For me, it is often the unexpected that provides delight. Romain Jerome (previously best known for their Titanic, Space Invaders and Back to the Future models) unveiled a collaboration with Mo Coppoletta, owner of The Family Business. The watch was called the Tattoo-DNA, and incorporated both a tattoo design, a tattoo’d strap and the logo of The Family Business. The tattoo aesthetic is one that I cannot even pretend to understand, although the watch does (in my eyes, at least) manage to capture something of the art of the tattooist.

Romain Jerome x Mo Coppoletta

But back to Dr Daniels. In November 2013, I was lucky enough to be invited to a dinner at the Club at the Ivy, where the guest of honour was Roger W Smith. Roger spoke for a few minutes about his previous twelve months, which he had spent reconstituting George’s studio. Roger also touched on the topic of British watchmaking, as he was due to deliver a speech at SalonQP the following day.

It has been said that George Daniels wanted to prove to the Swiss watchmaking world that the coaxial escapement worked. Perhaps more importantly, he wanted to make a difference to horology, and be remembered for that difference. When you take even the briefest look at one of Daniels’ watches, as I managed to do last week, it’s hard not to consider what one is not seeing; the sketches, the calculations, the failures and, more importantly, the many, many thousands of hours that sit behind the object. Perhaps, in each of those most beautiful of watches is the distilled essence of Dr Daniels; a life’s work.

Use·ful /ˈyoosfəl/ Adj. Able to be used for a practical purpose or in several ways

Most watches have but a single purpose: to tell the time. When a watchmaker adds functions to a watch, these are generally known as complications, and may include such useful features as a chronograph, date, moonphase, alarm or second time zone. Of course, time also has another use — navigation. As any seasoned traveller will understand, local time “changes” as we move east- or westwards from our point of origin. For every 15 degrees of longitude we travel, we lose or gain an hour, hence the modern world is divided into Time Zones.

However, in the seventeenth century, it was a little trickier to determine in which Time Zone you were, and therefore your longitude. It was Charles the Second who began the journey towards accurate mapping of the (night) skies to assist in this process when he established the Royal Observatory at Greenwich in 1675. However, following a series of maritime disasters due largely to incorrect navigation, it became clear that a solution was needed to what became known as the problem of longitude.

It was John Harrison, a relative unknown in the clockmaking and scientific circles of the time, who “solved” the problem. The science writer Dava Sobel‘s quite magnificent book provides the definitive version of the story, which I won’t even attempt to replicate here. Suffice it to say, Harrison’s first submission, the H1 chronometer (a portable clock that quite brilliantly replaced the pendulum with two counter-sprung oscillating balances), and the subsequent H2, H3 clocks and the prize-winning H4 pocket watch built by John Jefferys, were a sea-change in timekeeping and navigation.

A copy of this latter pocket watch was made in 1769 by Larcum Kendall, and came to be known as K1. In a piece of synergy rarely seen in the zoo-horological world, the K1 was used by Captain James Cook in his second voyage to the South Seas (1772–5), the voyage in which was discovered my favourite member of the Glaucidae.

Harrison’s longitude-related clocks and watches remain part of the National Maritime Museum’s collection and were shown as part of Ships, Clocks & Stars: The Quest for Longitude. The exhibition marked the 300th anniversary of The Longitude Act; their (rather good) Longitude ‘blog can be read here.

It’s difficult to know what was in George Daniels’ mind when he uttered the six small words that sparked this ‘blog post, but I hope that he was thinking of Harrison (and others) whose timepieces were “found Practicable and Useful at Sea”.

Amusing /əˈmjuːzɪŋ/ Causing laughter or providing entertainment

Watches aren’t meant to be amusing: watches are serious items to be collected, locked away; an investment. They certainly shouldn’t make you smile. Well, not unless you’re able to buy cheap and sell high; this isn’t a hobby, after all, this is a business. Gordon Gekko (for example) had a really cool watch, a Cartier if I remember correctly, and we *all* know about the residuals on those.

Or maybe watches are just status symbols; items of conspicuous wealth; wrist real estate for oligarchs. A secret handshake for the meta-Masons? Perhaps. I’ve always believed that most watches are to be worn, experienced, enjoyed.

This view appears to be shared with at least some of the people and brands with whom I’ve had contact over the years. I’m not talking about throwing your Patek in a pool, or taking your Greubel-Forsey up a mountain, but watches almost always look better on a wrist, rather than in a safe. And while it’s still far too easy to put haute horlogerie on a pedestal, there is often a sense of observable playfulness when watchmakers gather. Take SalonQP for example — the Independents Gallery might have been cathedral-like: crisp white walls, black microfibre gloves and reverential tones. But instead, Stepan, Kari, Tim and Bart combined to produce a vibrant hub of activity; there was even dancing. Perhaps.

The fun side of watches can sometimes be lost; the owner of one of the most well-known of watch ‘blogs was recently published for the first time. The title of this tome? The World’s Most Expensive Watches. It appears to contain a Daniels — a co-axial chronograph — although Roger Smith’s watches don’t appear to have made the Top 100. Breguet hardly gets a mention, and Mudge, Dent and Harrison are omitted entirely. Cost may not always be a good indicator of greatness.

As Kurtz might have said: the horror! The horology!

However, there are people to whom the amusing side of watchmaking does, at least, appear to be not only relevant but essential. Take, for example, London-based designer and watchmaker Crispin Jones. He believes “a watch should do more than just tell the time — it should start a conversation, make you think or just make you smile.” Mr Jones’ Watches are relatively cheap (the priciest is currently £350 / $580, with the average piece selling for £160 / $265) and a lot more fun than the majority of watches on the market. I should come clean and tell you that I own two — one based on Jules Verne’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (the Vingt Mille, which is now available as a non Limited Edition) and a second, slightly more esoteric mystery-dial, called the Baitball. Both watches were designed by illustrator and artist Fanny Shorter.

When George Daniels described watches as amusing, I’m not sure to what he was referring. At the Sotheby’s auction of Daniels’ collection in 2012, there was a surprising inclusion: among the marine chronometers, the prototypes containing co-axial escapements and the rare books, was a Trafalgar. This lot eventually made £813 — and was purchased by Richard Hoptroff. The reason it was such a surprising inclusion? It’s a talking quartz watch. Perhaps it was this to which George was referring — a cheap, base metal and plastic novelty, that presumably sat alongside the pocket watches, clocks and watchmaking tools within the Riversdale studio. A toy amongst the tourbillons.

A precious thing. After all, time is that most precious of commodities to those who devote their life to measuring it.

While Patek Philippe and others are able to throw seemingly limitless resources behind their brands, we’re yet to see similar amounts supporting the watch media. There are successful magazines — Revo, IW and (of course) QP, for whom I have written previously — but to date, there’s no clear cut online leader.

The merger places a high profile watch ‘blog aggregator together with probably the most successful watch-related ‘blog on the Internet. I say probably, because ABTW claims it’s the most popular, which may be a metric of success. Watchville, published by North Technologies Inc., was established seemingly overnight by Kevin Rose, and now has over a million interactions a month [Edit: 1.6m user sessions in June 2015]. It pulls together ‘blog posts and articles from about a dozen high profile watch-related sources, allowing the user to read these from a single app.

These “interactions” probably provide a lot more information to North than they do to the ‘blogs that are being aggregated; according to the Privacy Policy, each interaction can be tracked by user, so reading patterns, popularity, trends, etc can all be gathered from these data. It’s like having access to Google Analytics for all your competitor sites (and it’s probably worth a fortune to the right people).

We’ve already seen the “value” that the HODINKEE brand can bring — Loupe System, for example, retails for $525, or $565 if HODINKEE-branded. See also the collaborations with MB&F, Drakes for HODINKEE, and Freemans Sporting Club. There’s no doubt that it is the preeminent ‘site in its field. But the choice of North as a partner is interesting.

Kevin Rose is relatively new on the watch scene. When the Digg co-founder was seen in an episode of Hodinkee’s Talking Watches last November, he gained major #watchnerd points by showing off a RESSENCE. While his other project Tiiny appears to have stalled, Watchville has seen thousands of individuals download the app. That the majority of watch ‘sites are now increasingly luxury-focussed probably doesn’t hurt.

This could be the biggest thing to hit vintage and luxury watches since eBay and forums made almost all of us “experts” in collecting, flipping and talking about watches. There are hints (see below) that HODINKEE Inc. may be planning to disrupt the status quo, perhaps providing another concierge/ authentication service (similar to Watch Xchange, for example), but with the global reach that HODINKEE and backer John Mayer can bring.